What in Middle Earth?
by BaneOfKoveras
Summary: Instead of the typical "Girl Falls Into Middle Earth" I've done one where a character falls onto Earth. It is a work in progress still, so there may be some editing.


**_Heylo everyone, so I edited this chapter majorly because I am unhappy with the way a few things were, and when I was reading it with my grandmother we found some mistakes. She's helped me to see some of the story in a new way and also so far has helped me get this chapter to what I longed it to be. I am redoing the second chapter as well because it utterly disappoints and annoys me. After that I shall start working on the third. I plan to update about once or twice a week. Things are going to be kind of busy. I do not own Lord of the Rings. I only own the plot of this fanfiction and the characters Eira and Bylur._**

 ** _Warnings: Language._**

 ** _"In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity" ~Albert Einstein_**

My stomach clenches tightly as I look at the figure lying in the grassy meadow. His clothes look like something out of a fantasy novel. His dark brown hair is tangled and pools around him. For a moment I believe him to be dead until I notice his chest rising and falling.

Bylur lowers his muzzle and nudges the stranger's head before lightly chewing on his hair. Out of annoyance I swat the gelding's rump, "Lu! Nein!" The stubborn gelding's tail swishes to the side and his ears flick back as if mimicking my emotions. When he goes back to his previous activity disregarding my words I slip from his back. Despite my frustration at being ignored I nudge his neck up patiently before pushing him back a few steps. Placing my hand under his head I lift it up until his eyes meet mine I look at him sternly and repeat myself, "Bylur, nein. I know you heard me you foolish animal."

When the figure behind me moves I squeak and jump towards my horse who would probably snicker if he were a human. Instead though he backs up and snorts at me. Turning around I look with curiosity at the figure on the ground. Kneeling next to him I gather up my courage and poke his arm before jumping back in apprehension. Absolutely nothing happens. The sigh I begin to exhale turns into a squeak when his eyes open suddenly. I immediately brandish a stick from the ground pointing it towards him as if holding a sword.

The stranger groans and sits up seemingly confused. My heart rate increases and leaps into my throat when his grey eyes narrow. Due to my trembling hands I drop the stick and I watch it land haphazardly on the ground. As he stands my eyes follow, and in the end I find myself looking up at a brawny figure easily a foot taller then me. Suddenly I'm glad the stick fell because in the end it wouldn't have done any good.

Strange syllables leave his lips, and I find myself hoping he isn't threatening me. My voice seems to have abandoned me, but within my head thoughts are moving at a rapid pace. Most of them are curses I wouldn't dare to utter out loud. When Bylur steps in front of me I inhale sharply, worried that this monstrous looking man is going to attack my baby. To my surprise he merely lifts his hand and extends it allowing the gentle gelding to sniff it. Most of my aforementioned fear fades. After all if he made no moves to injure a horse he wouldn't harm me. Right? Mentally I shrug and divert my attention to the scratch on his cheek, "Are you alright?"

When the man furrows his brows in confusion I grumble a soft curse knowing that things just got all the more difficult. Reaching into the bag attached to Bylur's saddle I pull out my notepad and pen. Flipping it open I motion him over, and proceed to draw an arrow to myself. I write my name in neat letters before holding the pencil out to him.

I watch as he takes it, but instead of writing with it he flips it over and looks at it as if finding it fascinating. This seems peculiar to me as it's nothing new just your average Faber Castell. After a moment he places the tip on the pencil on the paper and begins to write as well. I watch as he writes a letter that resembles a B, but the rest appears to be blurred together. He stops after a minute and lifts the pencil once more examining it with newly found interest. Sighing I realize that the idea wasn't going to work as planned. Turning the gears in my head I take the notebook back and put it up as I try to come up with a new way to communicate.

When I glance back to him it takes every ounce of my mental power not to hit him when he snaps my only beloved pencil in half. Instead of violence a string of colorful words leave my lips and I throw my hands up in exasperation. Later I'd probably look back on this and laugh, but currently I was pissed beyond reason.

Pulling myself together I exhale my anger before pointing to myself and stating in a much calmer manner, "Laurette."

To make things better he points the broken pencil at himself and in a serious voice replies with what I hope is his name, "Boromir."

For some reason my heart drops and I find myself staring with a blank expression. After an awkward moment I force myself to snap out of it. Once I've said um a few times and can't come up with anything better to say or do, I point to Bylur and mumble his name, "Bylur." How could this get any worse?

Snorting at his name Lu turns and looks to me mischeviously. Backing away from Boromir's touch as if remembering something important he meanders forward and stops in front of me. Lifting his head high he places it on my shoulder as if to show affection. Laughter bubbles up in my chest and my sides shake as I lift my arms and wrap them around Lu's neck. My laughter transforms into a squawk of horror as he takes two large steps forward. The second I'm off balance he yanks his head back and watches as I fall to the ground. When I look to him again his top lip his raised as though he finds the predicament he caused amusing.

"Stupid gelding!" my voice rises to challenge the newfound color in my cheeks but stops dead when a gruff sound reaches my ears. My gaze drifts up to Boromir and my embarrassment grows tenfold and the darkening blush spreads to my ears. I am so going to kill my horse later… Clearing my throat and standing I once more point to his cheek where the cut is. Arching one of my brows I attempt to ask what happened without using words. At my gesture his hand lifts to his cheek. When he pulls it away and spots the blood his facial expression darkens as if remembering something awful. A moment later he's frantically clutching his chest as though something is missing.

When his abnormally pale face looks to me once again he seems lost and frantic, and the second he sways forward I scramble to my feet to attempt to steady him. I don't realize how pointless attempting to stop him from falling is until I'm on the ground being crushed by the heavy man. Groaning in annoyance I attempt the hopeless feat of shoving him off me. Thus it appears that my earlier question of how could things get worse is answered. This is how things get worse. After all a man twice your size passing out on top of you seems worse then being knocked down by a stubborn gelding. I think I deserve an award…

After attempting a few more times I turn to my four-legged friend with pleading eyes, "Lu help?" When he doesn't make a move to offer his assistance I turn to other methods, "Bylur I swear on the success of my next book if you don't help me right now you will be seeing no treats for the next year!"

Fortunately the threat appears to have swayed his mind as seconds later a fluffy silver mass lowers next to me. That solved part of the problem, but it did nothing for the fact that I had no earthly idea how I'd manage to get him off of me and over to Lu. So, I did the first thing that came to mind: I prayed and then hating every second I spend the next several minutes trying to push him off of me. After what seems like forever luck seems to smile down on me as I manage to sling him over Lu's back. Huffing I straighten and brush my clothes down before casting a glare in the direction of that man.

Now, I can't read into the future, but I predict that after that I'm going to hate life over the next few days. I also predict that I have a rather large bruise on my stomach, and that I officially hate men. Rolling my eyes I climb onto Lu's back and position myself behind the ass that appeared out of nowhere and then passed out on top of me. Clicking my tongue softly I ease Lu into a walk. A sane person would call the police, but I'm not that type of person. Plus with the look he gave me, and with the fact that his language is unrecognizable I doubt calling the police would do him any good. Therefor I'm taking him to my house, and what I do from there I have no earthly idea.

Forty minutes pass, and I think I officially have the right to say that I hate men with a passion. Well, I also hate my physical limits, but whatever. Someone must have a lot of fun screwing with me. Don't ask how long it took me to get the bastard onto the sleeper sofa into my living room, but let's just say I considered leaving him outside.

Once the task was completed I had removed my shoes and decided to change into clothes that weren't covered in sweat and mud that I guarantee weren't there before I had to drag a man twice my size into my own home. Hah! You'd think he'd at least have the decency to awaken and be of some use, but nope he's too good for that! Ugh, I hate men. Especially the heavy ones. I'd fight him if he were awake… Wait nope I take that back. I don't have a death wish, and I'm pretty sure this man would squash me like a fly before I could raise my fist… In fact, he almost did.

Rolling my eyes again I scour my closet in search for something comfy. A smile graces my face when my hands find something soft and silky. I pull out the old shirt, and my smile only widens more at the memories. The pale green color and the style of the sleeves reminds me of all the times I wore it in college. The shirt wasn't expensive, but it was worth more then I spent on it, and my God was it comfy. There were probably none to vouch for my words, but I swear that shirt always brought out the color of my eyes and complimented my skin. I may have hated myself at one point, but I loved how this flowy shirt made me look. It still makes me feel free and at home.

After changing I pull on a pair of sweat pants that had many holes along the bottom and stains littering it. I would not dress to impress the man in my living room. He put me through hell and I'd be damned if I weren't allowed to be comfortable after the trial he put me through. After all, in my house I shall wear whatever I please. If he doesn't like it then he can return to wherever he came from.

A small voice in the back of my mind chided me and asked when I'd become so rude. I shrugged and pulled my belt on. Eh, maybe I was a bit insane, but I didn't care. What is sanity? Who's to say that people who talk to themselves aren't the sane ones? Meh, we high fantasy authors have to be insane to a small degree. How else would we come up with ideas and create unbelievable new worlds?

Stalking into my bathroom I pull down a spare hand towel. Boromir better be glad that I'm a decent host and not a grade-a you-know-what. Turning the faucet on I wet the cloth before going back into my living room with plans to clean the stupid cut on his cheek. Stooping next to him I find I can't deny that he looks kind of cute when he's fast asleep, and not crushing me.

Shaking my head to rid the invasive thoughts I gingerly take a seat next to him. Once more I mentally scold myself as I hesitantly extend my hand to brush the cloth across the dried blood. Not a moment after doing so something hard connects with my cheek and I'm sent reeling onto the floor. "You son of a bitch! What was that for?" My eye twitches and I find that I don't quite care if he can understand me or not. After all I'd done so far to help him the jerk had punched me! "Stupid ungrateful ass. God, I was just trying to clean your cheek."

More foreign words leave his lips and I groan in frustration wishing to understand. Secretly I also wish I spoke the same language so that I could curse him out in his own tongue, and maybe a bit because I was a linguistics geek deep at heart. Based on the look on his face I chose to believe he was apologizing. From my spot on the ground I sigh and roll my eyes in annoyance telling myself to release my grudges.

When he kneels next to me and pulls my hand from my cheek to look at the wound he caused I slap at his hands, "Nuh uh. No sir!" The look on his face is met by my own look of stubborn determination to have my personal space back so that I might nurse my wounds and pride alone.

Better thoughts grace my mind however, and a revenge plot forms in my mind. If my swatting didn't stop him the maniacal laughter sure did. Once he's standing I lift the wet rag, and with precise aim throw it and watch as it hits him square in the chest. The look of triumph turns to a scowl. My plan had failed thanks to his flipping height. If I couldn't have my triumph I might as well use this as a teaching moment. Standing and pointing to the piece of cloth he is now staring at I speak the name in English, "Rag." Then under my breath I continue my sentence, "Stupid thing was supposed to hit your face not your chest."

His eyes narrow at me in brief annoyance, but nonetheless he lifts the cloth to his cheek and cleans the wound himself. I briefly think of how hilarious his expression would be if I had given him a rag with rubbing alcohol on it instead of water. Payback for my pain. Upon deeming his wound clean he holds the rag out to me, but he doesn't seem to notice that I've taken it as in the next moment his eyes are darting around the room in bewilderment. His head turns this way and that and he doesn't seem to know what he is seeing as he takes a moment to stare at each one.

Leaning back against the couch I watch as he wanders over to the light switch. My mouth quirks up as he flips the switch on, and his eyes immediately focus on the bulb at the center of the room which is now lit up. With a blink he flips the switch again. Once more laughter bubbles up, and any anger I'd felt at being punched disappears at his childlike curiosity. The volume at which I laugh increases exponentially when he begins to flick the switch up and down repeatedly. It's a good thing I don't have epilepsy. After a bit he loses interest in the light switch and wanders over to my flatscreen tv before he pokes it as though expecting something to happen. Regaining control of my own body I snort one last time before attempting to gain his attention, "Boromir."

Swiveling around to face me he narrows his eyes and asks something. Shaking my head I motion him over with a flick of my hand. Reluctantly he heads towards me. Pointing to the light switch I say its name and he nods before pointing to my tv with a questioning expression.

Snorting I point to the screen and state it's name before reaching for the remote. Lifting the rectangular object I'd just grabbed I show it to him, "Television remote." With a spiteful smirk I point then to the button surrounded by red at the top, "On button." He watches in fascination as the tv flickers on after I press the button. However that fascination soon disappears and is replaced by an expression of horror as he shouts something and leaps behind my couch. Revenge would have been sweet had he not nearly killed me once more in his mad dash towards the back of my couch. What was he, a ninja?

I jump in shock and throw the remote across the room nearly slaughtering one of the pictures on my wall. Cursing at my own reaction I retrieve my remote and turn off the tv. Cautiously I walk behind the couch and find a guilty look sneaking onto my face when I spot his distressed appearance. His breaths are rapid and he looks pale, and I hope with every fiber of my being that he doesn't pass out again. Kneeling next to him and hesitantly taking his hand into my own I look at him sincerely and try to make up for what I'd done, "I apologize." After calming down a look of understanding, probably due to the look on my face more then the words, flashes across his face and I awkwardly drop his hand before standing and turning away.

Upon reaching my tan wall I flip the switch down removing the light source as the sun began to set. Obviously most things in my house were foreign to him, and presenting them all at once seemed to be overwhelming. I'd have to introduce things slower if only in hope that he wouldn't pass out again.

Walking over to him I extend my hand in offering and force what I hope look like a gentle smile. Taking my hand he pulls himself to his feet, yet once standing he glances me up and down as if noticing something. His eyes narrow when he looks up to my face, and I take a step back flushing in embarrassment. He motions to me obviously questioning something, but the meaning leaves me flustered and frustrated.

Huffing I walk away with a shake of my head. Fishing around in my hallway closet I finally fish out what I'm looking for. When I return to the living room I place the small round objects on the table casting him a glance before searching for something. Pulling a lighter out of one of the small containers on my coffee table I light the candle. I then glance to him silently deciding to use this as a teaching moment. Holding up the lighter I speak in a tired and hesitant voice, "Lighter." After telling him the words for fire and candle I lift the candle and carry it to the light switch. I make a motion and find myself at a loss on how to say they are the same.

Raising one hand in frustration with myself I run it through my hair before turning and setting the candle on the table this time not turning the light off. "Lord things would be so much easier if he understood." In my head I secretly asked for a miracle in which he was able to speak English, but I don't get my hopes up I try to think of how to teach him.

By the end of the night both of us are frustrated, and to top it off I've reached the conundrum of his odd outfit and the fact that he has no more clothes. I also reach the problem of keeping him clean. The latter problem isn't voiced but causes me to grow very flushed. When I'd prayed for a change in my life so often I didn't mean dropping an unknown person into the pasture who understood nothing about the things in this world.


End file.
